Rugged Guard - Jason Collins Page 0,49

Swift,” Viv repeated on the other end of the line. “Does that name sound familiar to you, Mr. Williams?”

I was leaning against the front desk of the Bed & Breakfast, having just checked in the last guest on our roster for the evening. It’d been a few days since I’d heard from Viv, and honestly, with my thoughts swirling so much around Derek, I’d almost forgotten she was even in the picture.

Derek.

I hadn’t spoken too much to him since our conversation in the kitchen, the one where I was pretty sure he was ready to call things off between us. I wasn’t sure what’d made him change his mind, his energy changing halfway through the conversation. Even so, I still had a feeling that there was something brewing between us, something that was going to end with me breaking down in tears.

I hoped against hope that if I avoided him just long enough, then we’d never have to have what I figured was going to be a heartbreaking discussion.

Because even though I hadn’t said it out loud, I knew that I was falling for Derek Lavine. I knew by the way my heart raced whenever he kissed me. I knew by the way everything felt so warm when he called me baby or when he called out for me in bed. I knew by the way I couldn’t stop smiling whenever I thought about him, remembering his laugh or his classic smirk.

And I knew that once he told me it was over, it was going to hurt so fucking much, the pain of it seeming to reach every last part of me.

Thankfully, Derek hadn’t been too concerned with my partial vanishing act. After I’d explained to him that I needed to spend more time in my office sorting through the possibility of the Bed & Breakfast hosting an upcoming conference, the logistics needing to be plotted out to perfection, he’d given me more than enough room to take care of it. Although, I knew that he still had his eye on me as he frequently checked in on me at the front desk or subtly glanced over at me while he made his rounds in the building.

“Mr. Williams? Are you still there?” Viv asked.

I blinked myself back into the conversation, my attention now focused on her words. “Sorry. No. I, uh, I’ve never heard of anyone by that name.”

“Are you certain?” Viv pressed. “You’re absolutely positive? Your father never mentioned anyone of that name, perhaps?”

“No. He never mentioned a Gavin Swift,” I answered. “What’s this about anyway, Viv?”

“Well, I think I’ve finally figured out who was sending your father those threatening letters.”

“So, it was Gavin then?” I made an educated guess.

“I believe so, yes.”

“But why?” I shook my head. “I’ve never even heard of him before. If he was a friend of my father’s at some point, I’m sure his name would’ve come up—”

“I’m not so sure they were friends.” Viv’s words came out low. “Gavin Swift is a powerful man, Mr. Williams. He owns one of the most lucrative casinos in Vegas, and he appears to have ties to various unlisted organizations.”

“Unlisted?”

“The kind of organizations that you won’t find in a phone book,” she explained. “The kind of businesses you can only get in contact with if you already have their number.”

“Do you mean like mob stuff?” I lowered my voice now.

“I mean, anything and everything under the sun,” she answered. “Which makes your father’s association with him rather problematic.”

“You think my dad was involved in the same stuff as Gavin?”

“No, not entirely the same,” Viv replied. “But they did seem to share at least one vice in common.”

“And which vice was that?”

“Gambling,” Viv went on. “It appears that your father was rather well-known in Las Vegas. Did you know that he was an excellent poker player? Some say he could’ve played at the professional level.” Viv paused for a moment. “However, it appears that your father’s Vegas luck may have run out on a particular night at Mr. Swift’s casino. Rumor has it that your father happened to cheat Mr. Swift out of a rather large sum of money during a Poker game.”

“What reason would he have to cheat?” I asked. “Didn’t you just say that he was an excellent poker player?”

“Yes, but cheating is more about opportunity than logic and reason,” she replied. “And your father… well, let’s just say he may have taken that opportunity several times before, but that night was the first time he’d